Drenched In Dragon Fire
by TheBattyWhiteCrow
Summary: Thimble Surana is just looking for answers, answers with seemingly no questions. Now that she knows that not all spirits are demons, she must learn what it is to trust herself, for this secret seems to have lead to madness in the past to many. When she flees the Circle, and finds three abandoned dragonlings, her story seems to just begin across Thedas to find her long lost family.
1. Origins Of The Wronged

The world beyond the windows was one that no longer held images in her memory, especially as time wore on inside the confining walls of the Circle. For a time, when she stood merely a half a body tall, bare foot and wide eyed, the landscape outside of the window was merely one of the countless that painted her mind. She'd babbled about much in her first years in the Circle. Much of it pertaining to her family of cherished colors, or the freedom she'd once held in her hands.

But, as time wore on, the spare glimpses outside seemed to become all that there was to the world of Thedas. Her recollection of her family faded as the years wore on, and eventually, all that occupied her tongue and mind were the studies at hand. Thimble was a rebellious woman, one who often strode along the line of open defiance and obedience. She was not a fool enough to openly defy the powerful Templars, but neither was her fierce nature to be taken into a lack of accreditation.

She met their eye when they passed her by, she strode with confidence that many mages of the Circle did not. Further more, she often spent her time away from her studies and meditation in the art of playing pranks and jokes on the Templars around.

In truth, the Templars still had no clue who had turned all of the furniture in the circle to float a foot and a half after one touched it. Though, of course, it did lead to many hilarious instances where Templars and the like of a rather important standing took to meeting with others, as they often did, and in the midst of the conversation the chair they sat upon slowly took to rising in a fluid fashion.

But rather, the day at hand was of a great importance, and pertained little to unsolved mysteries of ever increasing nature. Mages had the story of their lives written the moment they entered the Circle, the moment they were born. Mages were collected from families for their own protection, as one claimed, and herded into the gilded cage that was the Circle. Guarded by Templars against their own weakness, when a mage came of age a final test was placed upon them.

It was called The Harrowing. Where the mage was given Lyrium to incite the traveling into the Fade, a lure for demons. If the mage gave into temptation, they were killed on the spot. Thimble was fiercely exhausted when the effects of Lyrium passed from her mind, nearly collapsing from the effort. In truth, not only was her body drained, but her mind was in complete disarray.

Demons, they were simply an excuse that the Circle used to oppress the mages to satisfy the Chantry. Surely, if there were demon in the fade, those of evil intent, surely there were spirits that had little desire other then to pass upon the knowledge that their long lives had acquired?

That was the way it was in the world, after all, why should the Fade's imitation of it be any different? There were the good, and the evil. The Circle simply leapt at the chance of justified crimes, as their Chantry did.

Then again, she couldn't trust her mind, demons may be pressing upon it at all times, trying to convince her to imagine such when in truth every creature in the Fade held nothing but malice and contempt.

But, how could that be the case? When that bubbling little blue light had fluttered to her eye, singing softly and flicking to and fro with contentment of a child, her studies had told her to kill it, be rid of the demon, or risk possession and her own death.

Thimble didn't have it in her, something about that gleaming little light that hummed with pleasant adoration of the world around it reminded her of a long ago world. One long since lost to the age of her memory. Oh, how she'd felt such fear, feeling it run through her body, shaking her to the core with it's touch and grasp.

Surely it was a ruse that demon often used on weak minded mages, to play innocent and sweet, lying in silent wait. But, in that moment, she doubted herself, she doubted her teachings, she doubted the circle. And most importantly, she doubted the Chantry.

What world would be considered 'right' to murder such a little thing?

Her peace of mind hadn't returned upon her reenterance into the circle, rather, she felt the secret bearance of the ordeal upon her shoulders. If she displayed the slightest amount of weakness, muttered anything along the lines of the belief that perhaps all demons were spirits of a sort, but not all spirits were demons, she would have been killed on the spot.

Jowan, luckily was waiting for her, out of the prying eyes of the Templars, congratulating her as if it were some great feat. Jowan, well, he was someone she could trust, someone she could devote her thoughts to, though she didn't often. Rather, she kept many facts from him, as he did her. The thoughts that colored her mind, the studies that painted her days were of no concern to him, nor was the same due in reversal. Still, it was pleasing to have one who understood the pains of the prying eyes that drilled upon her back at all times.

Jowan was a mouse of a man, in a likable way. He wasn't strikingly handsome, nor was he extraordinarily ugly. He could be charming, she supposed, but the far more likely occasion was the awkward moment of a bumbling young man. Jowan had never been devoted to his studies as Thimble was, but as of late he was more and more often found within the depths of the library.

Thimble had suspected that he was onto something of a rather important nature, even before he approached her with his plan. Jowan knew a method to escape the eyes of the unworthy, those afraid of their charges as much as they detested them. A method to steal not only his phylactery, but hers as well before they made their way out of the building in a conniving fashion.

Strangely, he'd seemingly gotten.. Fidgety as they found the phylacteries, more paranoid, and for want of a better word, suspicious.

Templars closed before them in the supposedly hidden underground path out of the Circle, Thimble shot Jowan a look of annoyance over her shoulder, readying herself for a good fist fight. Mages found their powers at a stand still when at a Templar's side, and training oneself physically was banned profusely. The men in front of them were strong, armed and armored, with a sick sort of smile upon their features at the excuse to pummel a few mages.

Regardless, she would go down fighting, they most certainly would not excuse such a transgression as an escape attempt. How WOULD the good people of Fereldon sleep at night, knowing a wild MAGE was on the loose and out of their cage?

"Feh, that one?" A man strode out of the start of the tunnel, efficiently blocking the way in, as well as the only source of light. Streams of light from the Circle Tower's interior fled past him, elongating his shadow over the form of Thimble, Jowan, and Jowan's girlfriend. Thimble KNEW she had a name, but seeing as Thimble knew Jowan, and knew her FOR Jowan, it seemed a fitting title.

Thimble met the man's eye fearlessly, as few mages did under his unwaivering gaze. Her skin was unnaturally pale from a lack of sunlight, her hair a dark shade, hues of bluish shade hidden in the twists and curls that fell in silken strands down her back. Thimble was a shorter woman, a head shorter then any given human. Her features were drawn in elegant beauty, her long pointed ears proudly striking out of her hair. Thimble had long since tampered with her robes to a considerable degree, changing them to her specific tastes, and as she was often told to change her robes to another of untampered origins, the designs she wore often changed on her mood while she was 'improving' such.

Eventually the Templars simply gave up on the subject entirely, the cloth was simply being wasted, and it was too expensive to dote upon a mage in such a manner.

"Ha! I remember this one! Thimble, was it?" The man gave a malicious sort of sneer, drawing his blade unnecessarily and gesturing to the woman with the misty blue eyes of the sea. "You, you're the one I saw leaving my room with that smug little look of yours MOMENTS before the furniture took to FLYING. Did you know," He gave a chuckle, a dry sort of sound, "That I WAS trying to entertain a lady friend of mine at that time? Ruined the moment when the BED took to FLYING." He finished with a growl.

Thimble gave a flourish as she bowed deeply, a smile decorating her features as she curled her hands to the movement. "Always willing to help keep women from your bed, beast."

The man glared deeply, fire in his eyes and a temper so strong his knuckles turned white at the base of the sword. "Trouble makers, the lot of them. You know what to do, men, Tranquil. All of them. Starting with that one." The sword's tip turned to the pretty little thing standing beside Jowan, at the word that all mages feared, she stepped behind Jowan softly. "Save the knife ear for last" His smile spread on his features sickly, the templars around the group stepped forwards in anticipation.

Jowan held his arm out, backing up a pace with his lady, screaming defiantly to the face behind the helms. "No! I won't let you touch her!" He proclaimed, drawing a knife from a sheath upon his side. Taking a breath to steady himself, the blade slashed through flesh and skin, sinking deep into the muscle of his palm before he took it aside. Raising his hand, he found the power in his blood, and with a flick of the wrist, the red smeared around him as if it were drips in water.

Smearing in a sphere around the pair in a half a moment, by the time it's droplets collected and dripped to the ground in a perfect sphere, there was no one standing at it's center.

"Ooh, Jowan, you're either a manipulative genius. Or a damn impulsive fool.." Thimble mumbled beneath her breath, turning back forwards, eyes flickering behind the man in front of the entrance to the Circle Tower. Strangely, she felt as if someone was to appear.

No one did.

"As for saving me for last, why, lovely, I just couldn't thank you enough! But, ooh, let's shed a little light on the situation, shall we?" Thimble spread her pale finger tips, shaking with fear and trembling with anticipation. "You boys aren't afraid of a little fire, are you?" She gave a wide sort of smile, spreading her arms with the movement of weaving on her finger tips. Wisps of fire lashing out in tongues, wrapping around her form in a wide sort of shield for a brief moment, her features and body hidden behind the ecstatic nature of the flames.

The spirit had taught her, there was energy in blood, power, really. A power the Templars feared, and it could, and was hers, if she just knew what to do with it. Thimble had long since taken to carrying stolen knives on her person at all times, another quiet defiance, as she wasn't going to kill every Templar that crossed her path with a dinner knife, but one that came in handy.

Tearing the knife from it's makeshift sheath on her upper leg, Thimble slit down her left arm considerably, clenching her teeth together a moment in the pain. Dropping the knife, she threw her open palmed hand over the slash, throwing a look to the side.

Her features briefly peeked from the moving flames, her eyes met the Templar leader's, hers painted with coy hatred and coming vengeance, and his colored with mild confusion. Catching onto her ploy, he thrust his hand forwards, screeching as a banshee did, "Block her!" The templars around him lifted their hands to do so, stilling the world around them to their eyes, concentrating to a degree that a mage did.

The hypocrites.

_Take me somewhere else. Anywhere else. _Thimble chanted mentally, fingernails digging into her own flesh. With a flash of her world, and the general disappearance of the Circle's templar's, it seemed just that had occurred.

_Somewhere else.._

The unlit lamps of oil caught the wisps of flame she sent and burst into theatrical fire of blues and purples before settling on the famed red. The Templars standing in perfect shock around droplets of blood on the ground, nothing more.


	2. The Abandoned

It was as if she was falling, fumbling head over heels, pulled by an invisible force to strong to deny as she flipped countless times. Reality strained against her skin, pressing and compressing Thimble to her breaking point at every fiber of her being. The unseen force ripped at the slice down her fore arm, twisting out more power from her blood then she'd intended. Thimble had one moment to regret her hasty actions, one long moment of agony embellished by the cold fear of the moment.

She would be trapped in this world of the in between for all of eternity, a hell with no life, no death. Simply lingo, for all of time.

Thimble slammed back into Thedas, dirt and rubble beneath her thrown body pricked and poked through the armor in fierce stabs. Gasping for air, Thimble curled her fingers into the stiff ground, pebbles sliding under her nails. Oh, that was..

That was something words could not define. The fear still shook her body as she gratefully turned her eyes upwards, scanning the area before her, savoring the solidity of reality.

She'd have to do some research on that place, the In Between World, and just what the dangers were of taunting such a place. Peeks of streams of light stretched through gaps in the spacing of the boulders near the top of the cave, the boulders of heavy weight seemed to be arranged in a stack of a sort. Tangled and massed upon themselves as if a cave in had occurred. The spills of light illuminated very little, barely reaching the wall of the cave opposite, but from the curvature of the space and the general uneasiness settling beneath her skin. She could tell that it was a small opening that she had appeared in.

Groggy from fear, Thimble took a silent moment to account just what had occurred seemingly a moment before with the Templars. She'd committed blood magic.

The ultimate sin for mages.

Yet, nothing terrible had happened.

More Circle lies, she supposed, they would be just the type to ban any sort of magic they couldn't control. Magic, in nature, was wild and untamable, and when it was tamed, it dwindled in it's life's joy of mischief and madness, and such things. It became weaker, shier and far from it's true nature.

Padding of soft feet rang through the air, claws shifting clods of dirt came from seemingly all around her, the soft and drawn out noise ringing through their space into a confusing melody of jumbled noises and indications.

She wasn't alone.

Thimble moved to rush to her feet, yelping loudly as pain roared down her entire body, a sea of white fire that seemingly stemmed from her right calf on her leg. Leaning down with a grimace, Thimble pulled aside the fabrics of the robe to find gorges trailing down in a twisting manner all the way around the muscle. Strangely, the wound did not bleed, and in fact resembled finger nails in shape. The shifting of soil stopped abruptly, as if the creature, or creatures were holding their breath's, standing perfectly still.

The feeling of being the one hunted flashed through Thimble's mind, oh how she detested it, a sense that so often filled her time in the Circle Tower. No, now that she was free, she would never allow it again. Snapping her fingers, Thimble pulled out her last reserves of mana, a raw flame appearing in her palm, fingers wrapped nearly tenderly around it.

The licks of red felt hot in her palm, nearly to the point it should have burned her, but of course, it would not. Fire, naturally, held a reverence for those who knew to tame it, those who created it properly. Hues of red spat the shadows of the cave into elongated tendrils, dementing the small space to a larger degree then the small amounts of sunlight peeking from the caved boulder's gaps.

A pair of black eyes gleamed in the light a moment, the creature upon all fours at her right leg, strange enough in profile that Thimble, without a thought kicked it aside with a snarl. The flesh felt soft upon her booted feet, and it gave a whimpering sort of cry, as if a child as it scampered back, hunched over and with the slithering motion of a snake, it disappeared behind a boulder abruptly.

All of which was too quickly a motion for the light to catch it enough for a proper examination, of course. Though the shadows did seem to mold around the creature, as if inviting it back into it's midst. Watching the creature depart with a cold eye, Thimble adjusted her hold upon the fire's glimmer. This was a confined space, it didn't have anywhere to run to, as it would seem.

Though that cave in to her side would likely lead out of the space and into the larger cave, which would in turn, lead into the sunlight. It was nearly strange to imagine that all that had occurred in the tower had merely taken a half a moment, something so simple, so mondain as taking another's advice had changed her life so monumentally.

How ever had she allowed herself to remain in the tower when power was so easy to obtain?

Black gleaming eyes shimmered in the red light to her left side, this creature was further from her with short twisting horns upon it's white head that was cocked coyly to the side. The creature had it's arms spread, laid upon a boulder, belly down. Giving it the effect of dearly cradling the boulder beneath it. As the light caught it's eye, it turned it's gaze up to Thimble with an innocent sort of look and a musical hum lifted through the heavy air in the dank, dripping and damp cave.

Aghast, Thimble strode forwards unexpectedly, moving with a jerky fashion with a growl, startling the creature to slide from the rock, belly down, and faunter off with the swagger of a child as it slipped into a crevice in the walling. Flinching at the movement, Thimble took her weight from her right leg, the thudding through the muscle enough to bring another gasp to her lips.

Disgusting little creatures, how dare they hunt her!

Her! The one to hear the Spirits, the one to command them to her will! The one to teleport upon a mere whim! Why, nothing had the right!

A miserable whimper filled the silence, pathetic and hopeless at her back. The same sort of whimper she'd heard from so many of the mages, forgotten and alone in the dungeons, far below the tower, awaiting their fate of imprisonment. Often, Templars postponed the duty of sorting through the weak and the strong, calling it mondain and tedious, and by the time their procrastination came to light, many had starved to death in the damp and the cold, fearful and alone. Without a hope, or a proper prayer to a deity that didn't seemingly despise themselves.

Turning, the flame in her hand began to flicker from a lack of mana for it's unending thirst, nearly dying and reviving itself in it's mad desire to please it's creator. Through the flickers, the shadows twisted and spun, revealing a small pink sort of creature pinned beneath a rock of heavy magnitude. The rock had beneath it a crushed wing of pale pink shade, the creature was a strange one, indeed. Looking up miserably with pained black eyes with no pupils and shimmering with light, the creature gave a long, low tone. Painted with desperation and injury of an animal.

The creature had horns that gently eased back towards it's neck, lying over its small pink ears of the same shade. Padding for it's feet looked raw from scrabbling, and claws of a white color were organized in digits, though each were cracked or broken in some manner. Evidence, of course, by the deep scores in the boulder that had it's wing pinned. A curling tail held bumps of triangles down the center, before ending in a sort of arrow shape.

It appeared to have a smooth sort of texture, nothing like the scales it would soon grow to have, and indeed, the bones of it's wings could be seen in denture on the softly pink wing set upon it's back, as it seemed suited to walk upon all fours. One wing was in fact, pinned to a hideous degree beneath the boulder, but the other took to flapping this way and that as the pink creature moved in the slightest, voicing it's distress.

All in all, it was from nose to tail about the length of one's middle finger tip to one's elbow.

Dragons often started that small, or so she'd read.


	3. Panicked Distortions

Thimble took a breath, calming her beating heart and wild mind. She had made something of little threat into a wild fascination with all things slithery and disgusting in her panic. In truth, dragons the age of some thing so small were little threat, if at all. Though, Thimble swallowed, hearing the patter of feet flood through the area as claws shifted the dry soil around her. In larger groups anything could be dangerous, she supposed.

And the noises they made were.. Disturbing, even in the best light.

In the dark, she remained with the sense as if she was the hunted, the one stumbling about ignorantly in the dark. The flame hovering above her palm flickered theatrically, much to the miserable interest of the creature below the rock.

In truth, she'd read much about dragons, as such, there was never an abandoned creature of the species, often residing in the deepest, darkest caves with innumerable siblings of varying ages and size, sheltered by their fear inspiring great dragon, the size of the cave herself, surrounded by smaller, but just as aggressive drakes. All of which, likely hid behind the other side of the cave in, and would no doubt awake from their resting silence to persue the unmeaning trespasser.

Flames flickered to and fro, dancing across the walls of the cave, receding with a quickly dimming shade, the stones across her vision no longer shimmering with the illuminating colors, but rather, barely touched upon by such. The little dragon beneath the rock scrabbled for a portion of a time upon the surface of the boulder, before tilting its head back to Thimble, the top of its head lying upon the bottom of the ground, upside down.

Its eyes were widely black, no pupils could be seen, the fire light dancing in them tenderly, the same light shifting slow growing, soft surprise on Thimble's own features. The dragon opened its mouth slowly, as if contemplating such, showing the pointed teeth one might expect from the offspring of a dragon, and after a moment, it gave the most pitiful, pain inspired wail of despair.

Recalling to mind the same cries from the dungeons of the Circle, of the pitiful's plight, of experiencing such helplessness to one's own fate, obtaining only the ability to cry out for such, and oh, how they did.

Thimble edged towards the strange creature that she had only heard about. In truth, she still had the eerie sense that one of its many, many siblings would scrabble across her feet, tearing open the vulnerable flesh of her legs. Rather, she could already feel the creeping, slicing claws, playing an imaginary tune upon her already bristling skin. Regardless, such things, she suspected, was merely her unease for the general outdoors, merely for a forced lack of experience then anything else.

Claws scraped across the rocks at her side, slithering maliciously, an ominious sound to echo behind her. Swallowing, Thimble strode forwards, snapping the fire in her palms out with a thought, she leaned down, digging her bare finger tips beneath one of the sharp edges of the boulder. The stone slick and chilled beneath her palms, the dark over taking her vision at once.

The creature beneath the stone seemed to settle, but others, didn't seem to understand she was helping. Unseen to Thimble, a second dragon, one of the few that had been spending their time investigating the trespasser, much to her alarm, was settled atop of the boulder, black eyes watching the moving mage with protective purpose.

Her scales were white, rimmed with a soft blue, her horns gently curled ontop of her head. Wings beating, the dragon leaned back on her back legs, and with a furious growl, the creature snapped its sharp teeth forwards in a snake like movement. Thimble clentched her teeth together, whimpering under her breath as pain flooded through her, fingers nearly dropping the boulder in her surprise.

Breathing hastily through her teeth to calm herself, Thimble firmly reminded herself with a forced nod to keep herself in check, lest the mother of the creatures hear.

Really, mages were the best to practice such self control, despite the Chantry's teachings.

Raspy breath filled the air despite her best efforts, the sharp teeth though not very large, were quite soundly sunk into the flesh of her shoulder, the jaw too small to wrap around it entirely, as such, the creature held the bleeding muscle in a ruthless pinch. Thimble rolled her shoulder, throwing the beast off the boulder by such a movement, hearing scrambling claws attack the bottom of the cave as it attempted to righten itself for a second attack.

Every muscle in her ached with panic, adrenaline lighting itself through her veins to run, rather then to stay and lift. Adjusting her stance, the thin elf gave a firm heave, shifting her hold upon the boulder as it began to roll backwards, starting to free the dragon beneath it. Sharp pain shot through Thimble's leg, moving like wild fire as her own blood dripped down her muscle.

Thimble yelped, unable to help herself for the moment, the creature digging its teeth in further in fury. Her voice echoed through the cave, thundering far too loud then it should have been, and perhaps she would have held her breath or worried over the appearance of the mother dragon, had her leg not hurt so badly!

Growling under her breath, Thimble thrashed a kick out, feeling her heel connect on the skull of the bitting, furious thing. A whimpered sort of yelp rang through the cave once more, and not desiring to wait for the creature to get its balance and attack once again, Thimble threw the boulder back, muscles protesting rather loudly at the heavy movement.

In truth, the rock had been quite a heavy one, and it was with a sound akin to thunder that it tumbled backwards, scattering smaller stones beneath its wake. Spinning on her heel, Thimble called upon her quickly dwindling mana, sparks flashing above her fingertips, quickly rising into full flames of a hungry nature.

The white dragon as it appeared, simply sat down at a slow movement, and gave a slow sort of blink, as a cat would at the elf. Then, after a moment, it turned, stumbling a moment from the lasting dizziness from the solid kick to the skull, it wandered right beneath Thimble, absently striding underneath her legs, tail swishing lightly at the movement. Blinking, Thimble turned back to follow the movement, just as the white dragon sat beside the pink one, making a sweet sort of humming noise as the white one rested its head atop the stomach of the other.

In her distraction the flames in her hand dwindled more, drinking up the remaining mana, and lasting only a few moments in mercy rather then anything else, illuminating only a few paces to each side, and little else. None the less, it still managed to catch the light of another pair of black eyes resting across the cave, eerily watching her in silent contemplation for a long moment, then, after a moment, it turned its eye beyond Thimble, and to the ledge behind her, immediately shifting its expression into one that disapproves of the idiocy to come.

White scales with brown edges, with soft brown fur on its elbows, and a ridge tail with a pointed end prowled from the cover of the shadows of the rocks of the ledge, peering down at the elf below. The dragon had no wings upon him, and his horns were of a childish appearance in a brown shade. Slowly creeping forwards, the creature kept its eyes on the unsuspecting elf, and with a leap, felt the air beneath its claws.

Thimble narrowed her eyes, leaning forwards to note the pair of eyes on the rock her fire illuminated further, interested in their seemingly intellegent gleams. Claws dug into her back, landing with enough weight and surprise to bring the elf to stumble, rather panicked for a moment, straightening up and spinning around. The creature, for its part, crawled over her, taking care not to harm the soft skin beneath its claws as it did so, scrambling beneath her arm and planting itself firmly upon her chest, black eyes watched her as it tried to slink its way closer to her face, appearing almost as if it thought moving slowly would make it invisible.

The final dragon, the one remaining in the rocks, watched the panicked movements of the elf, and the determined movements of the dragon, ducking in and out of the flailing movements with ease and skill in its fierce desire for a single object apparantly attached to Thimble's ear. Thimble slipped beneath her cloth boot, landing heavily upon her back, holding the squirming dragon above her.

"You don't have any wings." She mouthed to herself, turning the creature back and forth beneath her palms, the creature responding by desperatly reaching its arms out, attempting to reach her golden earring by mere will alone.

Thimble couldn't help but smile a moment, despite herself. Despite how she'd just committed the reason the Chantry hid the mages away. Regardless of the fact little made sense in the new color of the world, even the supposed cement truth that demons were in fact, demons, and not simply spirits that desired help or had no interest in entering this world, as her own had. Despite of her pain radiating from the many wound upon her body, the hunger growling in her stomach, and the danger just outside the caved wall, she found herself smiling a moment.

Just a moment.


End file.
